Listen, Obey

39. Thirty-Ninth Lesson

As the darkness spread its looming shadow across the sky, I finally began to emerge from my wandering thoughts. Matthews had left me alone for the last few hours, probably realizing that I needed some time to process what had happened. Those hours of quiet contemplation created a strange determination: I wanted to come clean about everything. I wanted to open the floodgates and let the words pour out from their hidden cages.

Matthews deserved to know more about me if he planned to include me in his life. Sam was but a tiny obstacle in light of all the other shit I carried around in my backpack.

It was time to show him my hand with all those vile cards I held in my possession—no matter how much I wished those cards would never be revealed.

Matthews stood at the kitchen counter, pouring a cup of flour into a bowl.

"What are you making?" I asked.

"Some dough for a pie." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand but still managed to spread a thin layer of white flour onto his skin.

I smiled and wiped it off. "I need to tell you something, and I have to do it before I change my mind."

Matthews steel blue eyes settled on mine, but he remained silent as if he knew I might change my mind if he started to probe.

Not able to look at him, I leaned against the counter and stared out the windows, not focusing on any single thing.

"I don't know where to start." My voice came out empty, void of emotion although my heart was beating in wild fear.

"From the beginning," Matthews suggested, pausing his handiwork to listen.

"You will hate me."

His arm wrapped around my back. "I doubt it." His words held conviction, but I knew that conviction might change in the blink of an eye when I told him about my sister. I could lose him, but I knew beyond a doubt that I would never actually have him if I kept this part of my past to myself. Our relationship would hide beneath a shadow darker than the one spreading outside.

"Something happened when I was four years old." I paused, trying to fill my resisting lungs with air.

He rubbed my back with soothing circles but refrained from asking anything. It was a silent reassurance for me to continue when I was ready.

"We had a swing set, and I remember helping my sister up into one of the swings. I remember pushing her until she laughed." I smiled at the memory while tears leaked from the corner of my eye. "I can't remember what happened...just the sirens, blue lights."

Matthews pushed off the counter and threw both of his arms around me until I practically disappeared into his wide chest. Choking on sobs, I struggled to breathe. My heart ached with desperation and grief, refusing to relent even though I fought for control.

One vital detail remained. One detail that could turn him away.

"My parents blamed me."

I sobbed harder as he kissed my forehead. "They shouldn't have done that."

His words were meant to soothe me, but they didn't. "What if they're right? What if I killed her?"

He tucked me into his chest again, holding me steady as my knees threatened to give out. "You smiled when you remembered your sister's laughter. Clearly, you loved her."

"I did."

"You have a pure soul, Ethan. I'm convinced that it was an accident. A terrible accident, but definitely not something you did with the intention of taking her life."

"But what if I did?" Tears streamed down my face, falling on Matthews shirt like drops of rain.

"You were four years old, Ethan. Would you blame any four-year-old for an accident? Would you blame Tilia?"

I shook my head.

"Would you forgive someone else?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know."

He hugged me tighter again. "You have to forgive yourself, Ethan. Forgive that poor child locked up in your memories."

I tried to wrench out of his embrace, but it didn't work. His arms held me in a vice-like grip, refusing to budge. "I can't."

"Maybe you can't right now, but promise me something." He paused, waiting for me to meet his gaze. Never had such a simple act been so difficult. I tried once, twice. When I didn't succeed he leaned down and sought me out. "Promise me that you'll try."

I lost the will to fight. Not because he was right, but because I had tried to deal with this for years—never succeeding. It was useless, and I knew it. Trying was useless.

His index finger brushed beneath my chin and beckoned me to look up. "Promise me that you'll try."

"I don't know how."

"I know where to start, but this has to be your decision."

"Start where?"

"You can talk to me, but I think it would be better to arrange for you to see a professional—someone who could help you sort through your thoughts."

I dreaded talking to a stranger about every dirty detail of my life—they had tried at St. Mary's, urging me to reveal the foulness brewing inside my black heart. It was a horrible experience; one I never wanted to experience again.

"I've already tried that. Doesn't work."

"Did you tell them about your sister?"

"No."

"Did they know?"

"Only my parents and my brother knows."

Matthews stiffened. "They kept it to themselves?"

"Yes."

"Which means you were blamed by them and never received any counseling?"

"Yes."

I was shaking again, partly because it sounded so wrong when Matthews put it like that.

"I hope you understand how fucked up that is," he said, brushing away a stray tear from my cold cheek.

I had no answer to that. I felt no relief. I felt nothing but the hollow crater left inside of me—all words gone, all emotions lost.

"Ethan. I told you before, and I'll tell you again. You're not alone."

Another fissure tore at my heart, breaking off one more piece. "How can you say that?" I wanted to trust him. I wanted to hope that he could see a way us to move forward—but I couldn't. How could I ask him to forgive me if I couldn't forgive myself?

He steadied me again, holding me in his strong arms. "Because I'm still falling in love with you, Ethan. You've captured me, and I'm not going anywhere."

Once more, I was afraid to look into his eyes—I was afraid to see what they held in store for me. Would they be cold? Would they cut off another piece of my heart?

Tender lips found mine, asking and explaining what I refused to hear yet couldn't help but feel.

I kissed him back, hoping that he somehow would understand that I was falling for him as well—that I trusted him in spite of the chains holding me back.

I was a fallen soul. Fallen in every sense of the word because the truth was that I wasn't falling in love anymore. 

I was already in love with him.